


Rip It Up and Start Again

by torolulu



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Immortality, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 03:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torolulu/pseuds/torolulu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylar struggles with immortality and regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rip It Up and Start Again

Sylar is old now, so old that he’s stopped counting the years that he’s lived and the powers that he’s acquired. If there are any that he doesn’t yet have, he lacks the imagination to conceive of them. He’s a god now, like he always wanted to be, and there’s no where left to go.

Nothing left to do.

Nothing left to fix.

He’s done – but he can’t finish.

He longs for the comfort of madness or senility to make him forget what he really longs for but the same gift that allows him his longevity prevents his brain from deteriorating enough to give him any relief.

He thinks that it’s karma and his thoughts return to where they always do.

Sylar has always been a man of few regrets, but nobody can live to be his age without having any at all.

*

Sylar’s not expecting Mohinder’s fist when it smashes against his face and he reacts on instinct, using telekinesis to fling him hard against the wall. His bones hit the concrete with a sickening crunch and he crumples to the ground.

Sylar rushes from Peter’s side to survey the damage. Mohinder is lying at an awkward angle and the back of his head is covered in blood.Sylar reaches down to take his pulse.

There isn’t one.

His fingers brush something smooth and hard.

“What is this?” he says to himself.

“I believe he did it in an attempt to empower himself enough to defeat you. I see he was unsuccessful,” a voice behind him says. He turns around.

“I’ve been expecting you, Gabriel,” Arthur Petrelli says and Sylar is whisked away to his office before he can even close Mohinder’s eyes.

*

“Gabriel,” Chandra says when he sees Sylar standing in his doorway. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“I’m sorry to surprise you like this,” Sylar says. “My mother cancelled our plans. She’s fallen ill. I was wondering if we could try doing some more tests.”

“Of course, Gabriel. Let me set up my equipment.”

Chandra exits the room, leaving Sylar alone with the map. He touches his fingers to one of the post-it notes next to a push-pin: Zane Taylor – Virginia Beach. He removes it from the map and crumples it in his hand, shoves it into his pocket.

Chandra re-enters the room with his monitoring equipment.

“Tell me more about your son,” Sylar says.

*

Mohinder opens the door to his motel room.

“Zane?” he says to the man standing in the faint blue light of the fixture under the awning. “Is there a problem?”

Zane’s face falls in either disappointment or relief, and he stares at Mohinder for longer than is comfortable.

“No,” he eventually says. “No problem.”

“Did you want something?” Mohinder asks.

“Yes.”

*

Mohinder is surprised to find that Zane is carrying lube and condoms in his coat pocket.

 _He must have been planning this since we first left Virginia_ , he thinks.

“You don’t have to worry about hurting me,” Zane says as Mohinder lubes up his cock. “I barely even feel pain anymore.”

Mohinder starts to push into Zane’s body slowly, but Zane wraps his legs around his waist and presses Mohinder forward with his heels, pulls himself further onto his cock. Mohinder grunts and loses his balance, putting his forearm down beside Zane’s head to catch himself.All of the air rushes out of his lungs.

Zane lifts his head up off the mattress and turns his face towards Mohinder.

“I said you don’t have to worry, Mohinder,” he whispers.“I meant it.Don’t hesitate with me – not now, not ever.”

He licks along the edge of Mohinder’s ear and starts rocking against him.

“Just do it,” he says, taking Mohinder’s face in both hands. “Fuck me.”

When Zane pulls Mohinder’s face down towards his own and kisses him like he’s going off to war in the morning, Mohinder decides to stop holding back. He fucks Zane like he wants to be fucked and when he climaxes he bites Zane’s neck so hard he thinks he might taste blood.

*

Mohinder is half-asleep when he hears footsteps approaching the adjacent room. He hears the door swing open and then click shut. He’s too tired to give it much thought.

He curls up against Zane and drifts away.

When Mohinder wakes up in the morning, he is alone.

*

“Do you want to talk about what happened last night?” Mohinder asks Zane over breakfast.

Zane stills his fork two-thirds of the way to his mouth and looks up from his bite of waffles to furrow his brow at Mohinder. His head tilts slightly to the left and he says nothing.

“If you don’t that’s fine,” Mohinder says, too quickly to be anything but awkward.

“Is this about what I said outside the motel?”Zane puts down his fork. “Listen, I’m sorry if I came on a little strong there. I’m just really excited to have someone to talk to about what I’m going through.”

Mohinder returns Zane’s quizzical expression briefly and then smiles.

“I understand,” he says. “Perhaps I’ve been getting over-invested as well.”

Zane smiles at him and tips his head back to down the rest of his coffee.

The skin on his bared neck is unblemished.

*

Distracted as he was by the preparation of a spur-of-the-moment execution, Mohinder doesn’t find time to unpack his things until he returns from the Petrellis’ mansion.

He finds a crumpled scrap of paper in his duffel bag underneath the underwear that he wore yesterday.

 _The curare won’t work_ , it says. _Don’t even let him wake up_.

He flips it over. _Zane Taylor_ , it says, in different handwriting. _Virginia Beach_.

*

Mohinder is standing outside the door of his apartment with the box carrying Niki’s cure. He opens his messenger bag to place it inside but finds that it’s already there. He looks from his empty hand to the bag. “What?” he whispers under his breath but he has more pressing concerns.

*

Mohinder is a light sleeper these days and the feeling of a weight pressing down on the bed beside him and a hand grasping his fingers is enough to stir him from his nap. He opens his eyes, looks at the intruder, and realizes that he must still be asleep – he’s lying in bed in the house in Chennai that he’s been living in ever since his mother passed away over forty years ago, but the company is the same as that in the motel bed in his dream.

“I fixed it,” Sylar says – _beams_ , really.

*

When Mohinder returns to his apartment after seeing Molly off at the airport he’s greeted with an enthusiastic hug from a woman he barely knows.

“Did you hear the news?” Maya asks him. “They said they would try you on your cell.”

Mohinder pulls out his phone. One missed call, reads the screen. He’s about to check his voicemail when Maya blurts out:

“Your plan worked! Sylar’s dead.”

Mohinder gapes at her.

“My plan?” he finally says.

Maya explains how Sylar’s body was found in an alley with a syringe in his hand. The toxicology reports indicate massive amounts of cyanide in his system.

“Thank you for letting my brother rest in peace,” she says and hugs him again.

*

“What are you so happy about?” Mohinder says. “You’re dead.”

“Finally,” Sylar says, still smiling.

He lies down on his side and wraps his right arm around Mohinder.

Together, they drift away.

When Mohinder is discovered in the morning, he is alone.


End file.
